


Partners in Crime

by sharkgriffin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/F, Femslash February, One Shot, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Pre-Canon, Sexual Content, Teen!Bela, teen!Charlie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 09:11:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3351200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkgriffin/pseuds/sharkgriffin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 2002, Bela Talbot met a ginger haired, homeless computer hacker in an attempt to steal from her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Partners in Crime

She watches her prey from a distance. She sits on a bench, a good ten meters away, completely unaware of what is about to happen to her. Her head is bent with ginger hair, flopping over her eyes and obscuring her vision. She had a blue, baggy hoodie and brightly colored shirt and she is wearing old fashioned headphones too, which completely cover her ears. She's reading from a magazine. That's already two senses down. This will be easy.

It's the early hours of the morning. Just the beginning of the rush hour. The roads are swiftly filling with cars. People have begun bustling about on their speedy way to work, but no one sees her. She is invisible, as always.  And no one is taking much notice in her victim either.

She edges nearer, keeping her footsteps as slow and quiet as possible. She can now see it's not a magazine, but a comic book that the prey is fixed on. And that's all she is to her. Just some more prey. A little extra cash to keep her going. She has never really been involved in things that other, normal teenage girls like, but now, she finds herself fascinated and leans in to get a closer look. It seems to be about superheroes. Now is the time to make her move.

And then the girl pushes her hair back from her eyes. She switches off her music and folds her comic carefully into her backpack which she had not noticed until now. It's also blue and adorned with some fictional character. She backs away a step, but continues to keep a close eye on her, planning out every strategy for how she can trap her and get what she could and still remain as invisible as always.

The ginger girl takes a wad of money from her pocket. Ten dollars. Not very much, but it will do. It is then that she sees her face for the first time. And she won't lie. She's thin. Green eyes over a sharp nose, which would not normally be so sharp if it had a little extra flesh. Her cheekbones show through her pink cheeks. She is starving. She looks to be about sixteen. She stares at the money and finally gets up.

The thief knows that she should have done something by this point. This should all be over. The steal, it only took two minutes at the most and then she could be out of here and driving onwards to the next boring, idiotic town. But she is curious. And she follows her.

The girl continues on down the street at a steady pace and she makes her way after her. Her heels click on the ground. No one would stop her and ask where her parents were, as she has made herself look older than her short seventeen years. She wears a long trenchcoat which comes just down to above her knees which are kept safe and warm inside a pair of netted stockings. Her light brown hair is curled into ringlets that bounce onto her shoulders. Her eye makeup is a shimmering turquoise which complements her startling, green eyes and she walks upright with a straight back, to make her appear taller than she actually is with aid from her pair of high heels. A diamond necklace sits at her throat, surprisingly not stolen like everything else she owns. In fact, it belonged to her mother and though it hurts to have them remind her of that woman, it seems fair that they are now hers. Still, she makes eye contact with no one.

The other girl comes to a halt outside of a breakfast cafe. The shutters are just slowly being lifted up. She checks the menu, maybe looking to see what she can afford and then she takes a deep and exhausted sigh. Finally, she brings her body up against the glass to push the left door open. She follows her in where she is being seated at a table and she slides into the booth behind her. She gazes, intently as the waitress leaves and the other girl scrutinizes the menu. From what she saw, there is not much she will have enough money for but she is still having a hard enough decision.

On sensing she is being watched, she turns around and the thief quickly brings her own menu up to cover her eyes. But the girl taps her on the shoulder.

"I know you're following me. I saw you earlier."

"I don't know what you're talking about." She tries and fails to mimic her strong accent.

"You'd better tell me why you're following me. Or I'll..." She struggles for a second to come up with a threat. "I'll call the waitress back over."

She glances from left to right, making sure no one is watching them. The threat is unimaginative but still effective. If the waitress hears from this polite young child that this strange woman is stalking her, she'll be trapped, the police will come. It could be back to another foster home for her. Or worse, jail.

"Fine. If you must know, I was trying to steal from you. I need a bit of extra cash at the moment, and stealing from you seemed the easiest."

The other girl eyes her up and down. "You don't look like you need money."

"And what makes you say that?"

"Well, the way you're dressed, mainly. I mean, you're like some secret agent. You're English, right? You sound like some James Bond heroine."

She chuckles at this, at the speed this girl's mouth moves. "Now, my evil plan's been foiled, I'd better leave."

She gets up. She'll find someone else, maybe some jerk ten or so years older than her, a little charm, a little flirting and she can make off with his wallet within half an hour. She'll only be delayed by about two hours now, as it is.

"Wait."

"What is it?"

"I ruined your robbery. I owe you something," she jokes. "What about I buy you breakfast. You look hungry."

"So do you, darling. I'm not going to make you waste what you have on me."

"I insist, please, it's my treat."

Reluctantly, she lowers herself into the next booth, the menu is slid across to her, bound in crimson, leather casing. She turns through laminated pages, trying to direct her eyes away from the prices. She has to accept this kind offer. It is strange behaviour. The rare few times she has been caught, she has had to run away as fast as she can, even kick off her heels to make it easier, but she can't leave anything behind in case of DNA tests. She already has a criminal record. But least of all, had she ever expected for her con to be revealed by a girl younger than her.

In the end, she orders herself a soothing green tea, a stack of French toast oozing with sugary maple syrup and topped with strawberries, a nice little treat. The other girl gets herself bacon, eggs and chocolate chip pancakes.

"So, what's your name?" she asks her as the waitress leaves them for a second time, still scribbling down their orders.

She thinks for a minute. Too many names, so many she's used, to trick, to lie. But one she uses most commonly. "Bela."

"Nice to meet you, Bela. Call me Leia."

* * *

 

Once their plates are finished, leaving only golden and sticky liquid stuck to the bottom of their plates, Bela is all ready to leave, redoing her hairstyle so it sits at the side of her cheeks, and pulling her coat on, when Leia reaches for her arm.

"What are you doing?"

"You're a kid on the street, like me. Otherwise, you'd have no reason to steal. You look like some princess on holiday here, but I know that's not true, otherwise you'd be up in your luxury hotel, touring the higher class of the city. So you don't have a place to go tonight. You can, you know, come to my place."

Bela is shocked to learn she even has a place, and she wonders what it could possibly be like. She supposes it is the curiosity that guides her into going after Leia, copying her every step as she winds her way off the high street  to a street of apartments, ugly, brown, brick buildings with signs everywhere reading 'no ball games' and 'do not climb'. Restrictions everywhere, preventing everyone from enjoying life. Is this where Leia lives, where she has to suffer her existence? She  feels sorry for every soul who has to endure time here. But she can hardly judge. She lives off stolen credit cards.

And Leia is leading her even further away, though, down alleyways where graffiti coats the wall, illegible names in huge pink and purple letters, the streets narrow, stinking of urine and whatever else she doesn't want to think about. And then they are at a dead end. But Leia hasn't taken a wrong turn, she is hoisting her backpack over her shoulder.

"Take off your heels."

"Why?"

"Hey, can you just do it? It's only for a minute."

She obliged, slipping off the pointy black shoes so that she is almost down to Leia's height, handing them over to her and she stuffs them into her back before firmly pulling the zip down. For a second, she thinks she is going to take off with them. And she'll get a pretty high price for them. They are vintage, made of a fine, expensive leather which takes a lot of use to wear away, they have the softest insides. They belonged to Bela's mother, one of the few things she actually wanted to keep from that woman. That horrible woman. She can see her green eyes, her lips that seem to drip acid as she stands in the corner, behind the disgusting man who is her father, he curls his lip at her, taking a step forward. And then the memory is gone again.

"Give me a boost," Leia calls to her. "Because you're taller."

Bela holds out two hands, fits them perfectly together like jigsaw pieces and bears Leia's weight as she puts one foot on top of them. Bela helps her propel herself into the air and she climbs up onto a garbage can, the rusty lid wobbling beneath her weight but she steadies herself and reaches her flailing arms into the air, pulls down the ladder that hangs over her head, so it is available for her use. It is a fire exit. She begins to scramble upwards, still holding onto her bag. She does this with ease, with grace, she has done this plenty of times to have had practice.

Bela does not need a boost to climb up. She is relieved to not be on the ground anymore, she hated it without shoes, the little pebbles digging into her heels. She too climbs the ladder, cautious and careful to make sure her skirt doesn't catch on her knee and that she doesn't fall. The task requires some upper body strength, of which she has enough to make it up to the open window that Leia is beckoning to her from.

It is a tiny gap in the wall, grubby glass having to be held on tightly so it doesn't shut again and Bela can't get through. Once she is in the room, Leia pulls up the ladder and seals it again.

"Anyway, welcome to my place."

It isn't much. This 'place' of hers has clearly been abandoned, some time ago. Maybe the previous owners meant to sell but they never got round to it, maybe just no one wanted to buy it, she can understand that, looking at the walls with their peeling paper and keeping her body as compressed as possible to be sure not to step on the clothes that are littering the floor. It's not like Leia is messy, there just isn't enough space for her to put the few items she owns.

The most plausible reason though to why no one lives here anymore is probably because they were evicted, maybe due to a pest problem. Yes, that does seem plausible.

There is a mattress, no sheet, only a blanket that even at a distance, appears scratchy and ragged, a set of two non matching cushions which Leia collapses into now. And then she takes out a laptop from beneath one of these cushions.

"I know it's not much of a hiding place but I've got to put it somewhere in case someone tries to break in."

"How long have you been living here?"

"Six months," she states casually without glancing upwards, already tapping away at the keyboard.

Bela plants herself beside her, trying to get an idea of what she is doing. Six months of living in this place? She doesn't understand how she can survive. Leia leaves one hand free from her typing, she is rummaging in a pocket, withdrawing what money she has left.

On the screen is data, rows and rows of white text against a dark gray background, some simply structured words, others pieces of punctuation and other characters which appear on her keyboard. Bela understands enough about technology to realize what she is doing. But she still has to ask.

"What is that?"

"I've been having a go at hacking this bank account for a while now. I'm hoping I can transfer a few hundred dollars, enough to keep me going till the end of the month, to my own account. Thought I could trust another criminal to hear that," she chortles, a display coming up over the text reading 'ACCESS DENIED'.

"Frack," Leia mutters and begins again.

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen in a month."

Strange, she had assumed she was younger. This girl is only a few months younger than her. She should ask her about her parents, about where they are, acting the responsible adult even though she can't be counted as an adult herself. Plus, that will lead to more questions about her own heritage. If Bela has to open up about the subject...she shudders at the thought. Still, it seems like a worse lifestyle than what Bela has.

"Yeah, I don't get my...inheritance until I'm twenty one. But for that, I'd have to, you know, come forward to law services." She seems to be pausing a lot here and Bela decides the feeling of not talking about their pasts is mutual. "So, Bela, what brings you to this neck of the woods?"

"Low risk of crime here. That means there is less chance of the police taking notice of me. I was passing through, on my way to seeing a new client."

"You have clients?"

"Yes, it makes quite a lot of money. I sell rare items, I've been doing it a little over a year. I'm struggling with my cash, currently. I attempt to steal these rare items, I've been caught most times, which is why I have a source. Unfortunately, he has high prices as well. I'm not planning on making a visit to him until I'm guaranteed I have enough money."

"Well, if you need a little help-"

"What?"

"Well, it's just, every criminal mastermind needs an accomplice. The little, you know, adorable brainiac." Her cheeks turn a rosy shade of pink and she flutters her eyelashes.

"I tried to steal from you this morning."

"You need a place to stay, I've got a place. I need money, you've got money. I've got skills in hacking, I've been practising since I was eleven. And even if you can't steal, you have your...witty charm." She stutters this last sentence, finishing in giggles."

Bela knows she has to carry on. Another month at the most and she'll be ready to purchase a crystal skull, or two sets of crystals, ready to sell to some gullible idiot who actually believes in any of that. She smiles to herself. But then again, two people are better than one, so long as they aren't seen together, they would certainly look an odd couple. And something about this girl makes her feel relief, though she enjoys her own company, time with another girl her age could do her some good. So she accepts.

"Great, I'll clear some room for you. You don't mind your mattress being right next to mine, do you?"

* * *

 

Leia is a massive nerd. That's all Bela can say about her, not that it's so bad. It seems behind every corner is a copy of Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit, she has some various plastic swords stashed beside her laptops hiding place, a selection of rolled up posters which she has never had the time to put up, and all she ever goes on about is the Harry Potter series by J.K Rowling and how excited she is for the next book.

Bela remembers reading the first one, she remembers enjoying it, a chapter before bed every night. Her old life, back when she was twelve, thirteen, before things began to go really wrong, before that happy little girl died. She finds it hard to believe that the girl once wore the same face as her, used her smile but not in a flirty way, in more of a joyful way, when her green eyes were not filled with despair. What a time that had been.

In the past month, they have gained five hundred dollars, Leia managing to break in to that bank account she had been dedicating her time to, Bela using one of her fake IDs which said she was twenty one, making sure not to drink too much and getting in conversations with men who clearly had drunk too much, sneaking away their wallets. From this, she has gained another hundred dollars from their final total, of which they already spent on food and other necessities.

In the afternoons, they walk the streets together. Bela tries on some of Leia's clothes, those few that aren't embellished with logos, she wipes off all her makeup and lets her hair go messy, and just for once, she can imagine she is a normal teenager, that her parents aren't dead, that until her eighteenth birthday, she won't be properly free from social services, that in less than seven years, she'll be dead. They buy themselves a basketball and take it to that particular estate that allows no ball games and bounce it around until they are told to clear off and skirmish away.

Then they head for the shopping mall, they sit around the fountain and they go off to the food court, eat pizza. Already Leia looks healthier and, overall more satisfied with life. Bela must admit that this American chocolate, candy as they call it, is horrible. Why they have no Kit Kats or Maltesers or anything by Cadbury's is one of the few questions she cannot get out of them, why they are stuck eating these Hershey's she cannot understand. But she supposes Reese's Peanut Butter Cups are fine.

As they sip on their milkshakes one night, they head back to their little room, Leia pulling out the straw and licking what is left on it, she decides to sit Bela down for a discussion. Bela expects she knows what it will be about, how while life may be good now, they're going to have to move out of here soon, maybe into a motel, they have enough for that now, how they could both start working jobs to bring in some extra cash as people were catching wind of this mysterious, green eyed girl who slid in and out of bars every night and men would lose their wallets.

But she is wrong.

"Bela, I need to tell you the truth. We're friends now and we don't even know what situation we're both in. I guess you need to know why I was on the run in the first place."

"It doesn't matter. I don't care, Leia."

"Well, I'm going to tell you anyway. I want to do the right thing." She breathes before beginning. "When I was twelve, I was at a sleepover with my friends and I was scared so-" A choke comes in her voice and a single tear rolls down her cheek. "I called them to pick me up. They got hit by a drunk driver. My dad died. My mom's in hospital, in a coma. Apparently, the guy who did it got himself out of any charges, he cleared all evidence against him. How sick is that?"

Bela nods to her.

"And I was taken to a special foster home, I had nothing to do, I felt so empty. So I made a computer game, my own version of one that was popular at the time and sold it free online. The cops were coming for me, I managed to get out of there and I was on the run. I met a couple of kids on the street, they let me stay with them. They taught me how to scavenge, how to change your identity, they even gave me more tips on hacking than I had already. This laptop is the same one from back then. The cops came for them, too, but I got away, came here. My real name isn't even Leia."

"Yes, I had worked that out." Bela supposes she was a nerd, back when she was younger, having seen all of Star Wars and Star Trek by the time she was seven. She had linked Princess Leia from the Star Wars franchise back to this girl's interests.

"My real name is Celeste Middleton."

"My real name is Abigail Talbot."

Leia, Celeste, whatever she is supposed to call her now, wipes away the last of her tears and gazes up at her.

"You changed your name, too."

"Yes, I had to. When I was fourteen...my parents were found dead in my house, throats slit. They all thought I did it, and no one could understand why, they were respectable people in town. Yes, they were, perfectly respectable."

Leia doesn't trust this judgement and eyes her, suspiciously.

"I was taken into police custody but I-" She looks around, nervously. "Escaped. I escaped, came to America and that leaves us where we are now." She decides to miss out the real truth about how she got out of prison, how and why Mr and Mrs Talbot died in the first place. Who would believe a demon did it anyway?

"Whoah, that sounds...terrible."

"Yes, it was." She kisses Leia on each cheek in what is quite a formal manner. "I'm just glad I have you to help me get through this."

* * *

 

Bela and Leia, Abby and Celeste, it doesn't matter what you wish to call them because it is not their names that matter. They have been sleeping together for a little over a week now. The girl with the ginger hair, she has never had any experience in anything vaguely sexual or romantic, her entire life, the one with the large, cat eyes has never gone to this extreme before.

And the thief, the amazing thief, she knows this is more than just a sexual thing, she knows her partner in crime is falling for her, maybe she is falling for her a little, too. But it can't go on. She has lied about how much money she has, she doesn't need enough to keep her going, she is just greedy. She should have met up with her buyer ages ago, she had just been delaying.

One morning she wakes up, five thirty, seeing Celeste lying there in her underwear, her chest rising and falling. She gets up, she begins to pack up her things, she can steal a car. She is already to leave within a quarter of an hour, whether she wants to or not.

Before she leaves, she kisses Celeste on the forehead, she holds her there like that. She honestly hopes she will be alright in this big world. And yet this is cruel, leaving her here, taking all her money, never mind that is what she does.

She takes a moment to consider. She could stay, they could be partners in crime for the rest of their lives. Seven short years before Celeste will be left alone. It's better this way.

She plucks her secret stash of money from her coat pocket, four hundred, five hundred, a thousand dollars. That will be enough. She tears a sheet of paper from a notebook, something they use to record their income. And she writes down a phone number, some people who can help Celeste out. Finally, with tears in her eyes, she scribbles down a final message.

_See you around._


End file.
